


An Angel, Whose Wings Hide The Sun

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-02
Updated: 2006-04-02
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Enterprise rescues a shuttlepod with some familiar passengers. (04/27/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This story has been months in the making, with all the medical research and everything else, so I'd like to thank those who listened to me ramble on about it. Hopefully, I didn't bore you too much. There's some med stuff in this fic that I've taken artistic liberties with, since this is set in the future. And yes, once again I am revealing my rabid fannish-ness for a certain British rock group. But don't worry, I've had my shots.  
  
Betas: sweet_subbie, MJ, the maching_monkey, Cinmbria, kageygirl, and (I'm not worthy!) Red and squeaky (you ladies rock as medical betas).  


* * *

> You think the shadow of doubt is hanging over my head  
> It's just an angel whose wings hide the sun  
> And it's myself I betray  
> I cannot wish this away  
> Took my chance, now the damage is done
> 
> —"All I Want is Everything", Def Leppard, "Slang," 1996

"Why are we out here mapping dead space again, Cap'n?"

"Because the High Council wants to know if any of these planets are suitable for colonization now. It's been three years, and if the radiation levels have dropped to where one of our races can stand them, we need to know." Captain Jonathan Archer patiently explained to his second in command once again. He knew the question was merely the commander's way of showing his anxiety at being off the ship.

From the pilot's seat in the shuttlepod, Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed snorted. "The Klingons will get first crack at them anyway, so why couldn't the Council have sent them? And don't tell me it's because they don't have the scientific equipment, Commander. I served on a Bird of Prey during the war. I've seen what kind of equipment they have."

Commander Charlie Tucker looked up from where he was recording sensor data onto a padd. "I'm still amazed at that, Malcolm. First human to serve on a Klingon vessel and last more than a week." He shook his head. "I spent three hours on one repairing their warp engine after Andoria Prime and that was three hours too long." He idly rubbed at his left arm.

Malcolm shrugged. "There are worse vessels to serve on. You spent time on the D'kyr."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure what's worse—Vulcans or Klingons. But at least Vulcan food isn't alive." Charlie's tone was light, but his memories of that time were anything but. Especially now.

"Gentlemen," Jon said, used to the affectionate bickering between his Chief Engineer and his Chief Tactical Officer, "the Council asked Enterprise to perform the survey mission and I, for one, am glad to be off patrol and doing something."

Malcolm and Charlie grinned at each other before turning back to their stations. They actually were both happy to be free from the tension that the patrols of the Alliance's borders produced. The enemy was defeated, but not destroyed. Much to the disgust of both the Klingons and the Humans, the Vulcans had prevailed in that matter. Personally, all three men thought that this was merely giving the Suliban and Andorians time to regroup and plan a counter-attack on the Alliance.

The Imperial Alliance between the Klingons, the Humans, and the Vulcans was still fragile. All three races were used to being sovereign over their borders, and none of them really 'pulled well in a double harness', as Charlie would put it.

"Scratch Alios III," the commander announced. "It's still way too contaminated."

Jon sighed. This was the third planet in this sector that was still uninhabitable three years after the war. Whatever the enemy had used to destroy the planets, it was still doing its job.

"All right. Malcolm, hail Enterprise and tell them to rendezvous with us at Theron V. We'll survey that planet on ship before reporting back to the Council. They should be done with their surveys by now."

Malcolm nodded, but before he could reach for the comm, the ship lurched sickeningly to port and began to accelerate.

"What the hell?" Charlie grabbed onto the side of his console to keep from falling to the deck.

"Spatial anomaly, it's pulling us in," Malcolm said tersely as he fought for control of the ship against the pull of the anomaly.

"Reverse thrusters," Jon ordered.

"Done, no effect. Trying to see if I can slingshot us around the rim of this." Malcolm's tone betrayed none of the fear that he had to be feeling.

Jon nodded, leaving Malcolm to his work. Next to Lieutenant Mayweather, Malcolm Reed was the best pilot on board Enterprise. He would try all he could to get out of the anomaly's gravity. Charlie was assisting Malcolm by trying to coax more power out of the impulse engines. Jon moved to the third console and began broadcasting a coded distress signal to Enterprise, at the same time focusing the sensors on the anomaly and sending that data as well. If they didn't get out of the gravity well, Enterprise would need all the data they had on the anomaly to try to get back from wherever they were being pulled.

"Sir, it's no use. And the strain is causing the starboard hull plating to buckle," Malcolm shouted over the straining engines. Jon looked over at Charlie, who shook his head.

"We're getting sucked in, Cap'n."

"Stop fighting and go with it Malcolm," Jon ordered. "I'd rather get there in one piece. I'm sending out distress calls and a coded message to Enterprise and the High Council." He looked up at Charlie, who was watching him. Jon recognized the expression hidden in his oldest friend's eyes. "Who knows? This could take us halfway across the galaxy and let us meet new allies."

Charlie swallowed as he looked back at his console. "Let's hope there _is_ an exit to this thing," he muttered

* * *

"Captain, I'm getting a distress signal."

Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starfleet vessel Enterprise looked up from his review of the latest reports from Engineering. His communications officer was frowning at her board. "Let's hear it, Ensign."

She nodded and pressed a few buttons. Static crackled over the bridge speakers, breaking up the message.

"....ASV...spatial anomaly...coordinates are 758...require assistance...pod Falcon of...ASV...anomaly...7582...assistance..."

"It's an automatic beacon on repeat, Captain," Hoshi said as she muted the audio.

"How far away are they?"

T'Pol checked her scanner. "Approximately 7.28 light years."

"Travis, alter course to intercept them. T'Pol, Malcolm, as soon as we're close enough, start scanning them to see what kind of damage they've sustained. And keep an eye out for this spatial anomaly they mentioned."

* * *

It didn't take long to reach the Falcon. As soon as it was within range, Archer had T'Pol put the visual on screen. The ship hadn't answered their hails, though Hoshi continued trying.

"Whoa. It looks like one of our shuttlepods," Trip Tucker said from his seat at the engineering station.

"I'm reading three human bio-signs on board," T'Pol said.

Archer turned to her. "Human?" She nodded and Archer frowned. "Hoshi, any response to our hails?" The young woman shook her head. Archer sighed. "Can you tell if they're conscious or not?" he asked T'Pol. She shook her head. "We can't just leave them out there," he said. "Trip, can we use the grappler to bring them into the launch bay?"

Trip considered that for a second. "They're moving slow enough for us to lock on to."

"Sir," Reed began in protest.

"I'm not leaving humans out there in distress, Malcolm." Archer turned to Trip, "Bring them aboard, then come join us down there. T'Pol, have Dr. Phlox and a medical team meet me and Lieutenant Reed outside the launch bay." Archer turned for the turbolift, Reed following.

* * *

Once the pod was inside the bay and the bay had been pressurized, the doors opened to admit the four officers and two medical corpsmen. There was silence in the bay until Phlox's scanner began beeping wildly. "One of the humans is going into cardiac arrest," he announced.

Reed was already opening the hatch and climbing in, his mind barely registering how the interior of the craft matched their pods exactly. "Which one?" he called out to the doctor, noticing the two blond men slumped over the secondary consoles and the dark-haired man at the pilot's controls.

Phlox had entered behind him. "This one." He pulled at the man closest to the hatch. Reed moved to assist him, getting the man onto the deck of the shuttle. Both the doctor and the armory officer gasped as they stared into the familiar face of Trip Tucker—only it wasn't their Trip, not with the scar above his left eye and the unfamiliar black uniform. He was also paler—almost gray—in skin color and his lips had a bluish tinge. Their eyes met briefly before Phlox regained his composure and gestured for Malcolm to start CPR while he prepared a hypospray. After injecting his patient, Phlox took over on chest compressions as Malcolm began breathing for the man.

The two corpsmen were doing triage on the other two occupants. Archer was still outside, taking scans of the hull. Trip ducked into to the pod to take a look at the engines. When Reed lifted his head from performing CPR, the engineer gasped in shock.

"What the hell?" Trip was stunned by the sight of the patient.

"I don't know, Commander," Phlox said. "Check the medical scanner for me," he ordered. Trip picked it up and checked it.

"Hang on. His heart's beatin'."

Phlox stopped compressions and took the scanner back. "Keep breathing for him, Lieutenant," he ordered as he prepared another hypospray and injected the unconscious man. He studied the scanner for a few seconds. "You can stop now. He's breathing on his own."

Red sat back onto his heels, chest heaving from the effort of breathing for the patient and himself. "Will he be all right?" He licked his lips, tasting the other Tucker on them.

"He should be. He wasn't without oxygen for very long. I'll know more when I get him into Sickbay."

"I don't believe this."

The three other men looked up at Captain Archer, who was now helping the corpsmen with the other two men in the pod. He looked back at his companions. "This one," he gestured to the man opposite Trip's doppelganger, "is me. And Malcolm is in the pilot's chair."

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed had awakened in enough sickbays during the course of the war that he'd developed the ability to know when he was in one, and whether it was a friendly sickbay or not, before becoming fully conscious. He knew he was in another sickbay that felt friendly, but he forced his body to remain relaxed and listened, hoping for some audible indication of the intentions of his rescuers. He knew that beings talked more freely when they thought he was still unconscious.

"The Commander didn't sustain any permanent damage from the cardiac arrest," an unfamiliar voice was saying. Malcolm inwardly winced. Charlie had been infected with an enemy virus during the war that had weakened his heart, and the Alliance doctors hadn't been able to fully cure him. He hadn't had a problem in months, but the stress of the anomaly might have caused it to act up.

"Any idea what caused him to have a heart attack?" a familiar voice asked, though Malcolm had trouble placing it.

"Yes, actually. It would appear that he has a rare virus that has infected only his heart. I would say it was probably deliberately injected into his heart, as it's not present in any other muscles." The alien voice paused. "The damage to his heart muscle is extensive. I would estimate he's had this problem for years. Quite frankly, the Commander probably has less than a year, at the most, before the damage would cause his heart to stop permanently."

Malcolm bit his lip at that, hoping his action wasn't noticed. He couldn't help it—hearing this unfamiliar doctor confirm Dr. Cutler's prognosis was heartbreaking. He was going to lose Charlie. He'd known that, but he'd been denying it. The war was over—surely the doctors could find a cure. Now, though, he had to accept the truth. But Malcolm wasn't sure he could. He didn't think he could survive without Charlie.

"I'll need to keep him in Sickbay a few more days, but he should be fine," the doctor was saying. Malcolm had lost track of their conversation, lost in his thoughts.

"We need to talk with them."

Malcolm opened his eyes, noticing the ceiling of this sickbay looked a lot like the one on Enterprise. He glanced over to see an unfamiliar alien talking to Captain Archer, Commander Tucker, and . . . himself?

Malcolm pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at the three men wearing blue jumpsuits with color-coded piping around the shoulders and the rank pips that he knew from the Alliance Fleet. "Where the hell am I?"

The four men turned, and the alien came over to check the monitor on the wall behind him. Malcolm continued to stare at the humans, ignoring the alien's attempts to get him to lie down.

"You're in Sickbay on board the Earth starship Enterprise," the alien said soothingly. "We answered your distress call and brought you and your companions on board."

"The Captain? Charlie?" He looked at the alien, wondering if the man would lie to him now that he knew Malcolm was awake.

"They're fine. They're still unconscious, but we're letting them wake up naturally."

Well, that was probably the truth. Malcolm could see both men lying on biobeds to his right. Malcolm looked back at the three men. "This isn't my Enterprise," he stated flatly.

"No, it's not," the Captain Archer look-alike said. "From what we can tell of your sensor logs, the three of you encountered a spatial anomaly. We're not sure what happened or what's going on. We do know that the planets you were scanning are all inhabited here."

The last statement startled Malcolm. "The war never happened?"

"What war?" his counterpart asked. Malcolm noticed the other Malcolm Reed was still a lieutenant, something he hadn't been in seven years. The war had been going on for three years by then. And he'd been posted to the Cassandra, not Enterprise.

"The Suliban War."

"We're not at open war with the Suliban," Archer said.

"Be thankful, the war wasn't pretty. We lost a lot of good people." He allowed himself a moment of remembrance for the crew of the Cassandra, killed at Andoria Prime.

"Your distress signal said something about the Falcon?" Archer asked.

"The Falcon is the designation of the shuttlepod." He noticed their questioning looks, but hesitated to say more without his captain's authorization. He was saved from more questions when the doors to sickbay opened and a Vulcan woman walked in with Lieutenant—no, this Hoshi Sato was an ensign, he noticed. She was also staring at him; clearly the presence of look-alikes of three of the senior staff wasn't general knowledge on this ship. The Vulcan woman seemed to take it stride, but then again, she was Vulcan. She looked familiar to Malcolm, but he couldn't place her. Interesting that this Enterprise had a mixed-species crew.

"Captain, we cannot find any traces of the spatial anomaly in this sector. It is possible that it closed."

Malcolm swore under his breath in Klingon, causing Ensign Sato's eyes to go wide. "That's not very polite," she said mildly, causing the others to look at her and Malcolm to smile slightly.

"There _are_ no polite phrases in Klingon, Ensign."

"Where did you learn Klingon?" the other Reed asked.

"Long story," he replied. "One I'm not sure I have permission to tell."

The Captain nodded and was about to reply when another biobed gave a soft beep. All seven people turned to the bed where the other Commander Tucker lay. His eyes fluttered open, then shut. "Malcolm?" he whispered.

Malcolm was off his biobed and at Charlie's side in an instant, smoothing back the blond hair. "I'm here, Charlie."

"What happened? The Andorians ambush us again?"

Malcolm ignored the startled sounds and concentrated on reassuring his lover. "No, love, we were scanning those planets for the Council, remember? We got pulled into a spatial anomaly and rescued by a different Enterprise than our own."

"Another Enterprise?" Charlie opened his eyes and looked around, catching on the crew of the ship. His face registered his confusion as he took in the other crewmembers, including himself. But it was the Vulcan woman who he stared at the longest. He closed his eyes. "I gotta be dreaming." The monitor beeped in alarm as Charlie's heart rate increased and his breathing became labored. Malcolm made soothing noises as the doctor began examining Charlie.

"This isn't a dream, Charlie," Malcolm said softly, his hand still on Charlie's head, thumb moving in reassuring strokes. The sudden increase in heart rate scared him—it often preceded a cardiac incident.

"But T'Pol can't be here. She was killed at Seraglin Minor. I was there. I saw her die." He opened his eyes and stared at Malcolm, who suddenly realized what Charlie was talking about. The captain of the Vulcan ship he'd served on had been tortured, killed, and dismembered by the Suliban while her crew was forced to watch. Charlie still had nightmares about the incident.

Malcolm looked over at the other Enterprise members. He noticed the shock on most of their faces, but wasn't sure if it was from the information that the Vulcan woman was dead in another reality, or from the way Malcolm was treating Charlie. Hell with them, he thought. Charlie was his lover and neither their captain nor their friends cared.

"No, love, this isn't Captain T'Pol. This is another Enterprise, where the war never happened." Charlie's heartbeat began slowing. "You, I, and the Captain have doubles here, so obviously T'Pol does too. There's also a Hoshi, and I would assume a Travis and Liz." The doctor nodded when Charlie and Malcolm glanced at him. "See, love, not a dream. Just an alternate reality."

"An illogical one," Charlie muttered under his breath, causing Malcolm to chuckle. Charlie sought Malcolm's hand, squeezing it tight as he gave his lover a smile. It quickly faded to a frown. "The captain?" His eyes reflected his worry for his best friend.

"He's still out of it, love."

"He should be waking up soon," the doctor mentioned, from where he was reviewing the data on the screen behind Charlie's head.

"My heart stopped again, didn't it." It was a statement of fact, not a question. "I can feel where someone did CPR." His eyes clouded over. "The Fleet's gonna bounce me out of the engine room, aren't they? No place for an engineer who's on his last legs." Charlie sounded bitter, and Malcolm leaned down to rest his forehead against his mate's. "I'm sorry, Malcolm," Charlie whispered. "I keep trying to hang on, but the bastards won't let me."

"I know, love, I know."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Your heart did stop, but Lieutenant Reed and I managed to get it started again. The virus you had contracted responded well to the viricide I treated you with. It's been destroyed, though I would like to keep you under observation for a few more days to be sure."

Both Malcolm and Charlie looked up at him. "What does that mean?" Malcolm asked softly. He was glaring at the man, warning him against giving Charlie false hope. That had happened too many times over the years.

"It means that the virus will no longer be causing the Commander's heart to stop. Also, once I'm sure that the virus is completely removed from his system, I can remove the damaged muscle and harvest stem cells from your bone marrow and inject them into the heart to help your body create new, healthy, cardiac muscles."

Charlie was speechless as he struggled to sit up. Malcolm helped his lover. "I'm cured? You're kidding! The docs in the Fleet haven't been able to figure out what's wrong with me for the past four years!"

The alien doctor looked surprised. "Really? Astonishing. Granted, this strain of virus is more virulent than others, considering it was injected directly into the cardiac muscle, but it was apparently easily curable."

"Our doctors were often busy," Malcolm reminded Charlie. "Even after the war was over. They haven't had a war here."

Charlie snorted bitterly. "Our docs were more interested in trying to create biological weapons than in curing people, you mean."

"I hate to interrupt, but the fact remains that the three of you don't exactly belong on this Enterprise," Captain Archer said.

"No kidding," Charlie replied.

"You said you'd accessed our sensor logs. Did they give you any data on the anomaly?" Malcolm asked.

"An impressive amount," T'Pol said. "Your sensors are equal to most Vulcan ships'."

"They ought to be, the Vulcans designed the damn things." Charlie gave in to the urgings of Malcolm and the doctor and lay back down, though he didn't release his hold on Malcolm's hand.

"Vulcans gave humans their technology?" the other Commander Tucker asked.

Charlie turned to him in surprise. "Yeah. Hell, I served on a Vulcan ship for a few months to get up to speed on the Warp Seven engine." The quick flash of pain was only seen by his lover, who gently squeezed his hand.

"I'm confused. Humans serving on Vulcan ships?" Ensign Sato asked.

Malcolm sighed. "It's a very long story, and I think Commander Tucker and I really need to wait until our captain is awake before telling it."

The man who looked so much like their Jonathan Archer nodded. "Fair enough," he said.

* * *

Charlie Tucker sighed as he stared out the window of the mess hall. He was aware of the stares of the Enterprise crew, but he ignored them. After all, though some of the faces looked familiar, they weren't his crew.

He wanted to be working on the Falcon, trying to repair the damage the wormhole—the term this T'Pol had given to the spatial anomaly—had caused. But Dr. Phlox wanted Charlie to take it easy for a while—just because the virus had been destroyed did not mean the commander was able to resume his pre-infection activities. After all, the four years of infection had done considerable damage to Charlie's entire body. So Charlie had spent three days in Sickbay while the doctor made sure that the virus had been eradicated from his system and worked on repairing the damage that had been done over the years. Letting the doctor get near his chest with a hypodermic hadn't been easy for Charlie—it brought up too many memories of how he had been originally infected—but he had endured it for the chance to have more time with his lover and his best friend.

It was still difficult for him to believe that four years of wondering when his heart was just suddenly going to stop was apparently over in a snap. On the bright side, Charlie thought with a smile, it meant that he and Malcolm wouldn't have to be so careful in their lovemaking anymore. His lover was extremely paranoid about doing anything that would cause Charlie's condition to deteriorate.

Their Captain Archer had finally woken up, confused as hell to be staring at himself, but taking it in stride. The three Alliance Fleet officers, after conversing privately, decided to tell the basic facts of their mission and history to this Enterprise crew, if only to gain their trust and help in getting home. That had been five days ago. The other Captain Archer had assigned them quarters while they were on board and a plan of action was determined. One thing Charlie would say for this Captain Archer, he was as quick on the uptake as their captain. He'd assigned Charlie and Malcolm to the same quarters as if it were natural.

"Mind if I join you?"

Charlie looked up to see Trip Tucker standing there. It was still weird, to see this almost mirror image of himself on the ship. And this one _liked_ the nickname Charlie had always detested. "Go ahead," Charlie said with a shrug.

Trip sat down, a plate of ravioli in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. "Thought you might like some company, seeing as how your Archer and Reed are tied up in a meeting with my Archer and T'Pol. I'm just glad they didn't invite me in—they're talking spatial anomalies again."

Charlie shrugged. "Not my first choice either." He took another sip of his hot tea. "I just hope they can get us home."

Trip looked at his counterpart. "Aren't y'all recovering from a war?"

"Yeah, but it's still home."

Trip nodded, unable to dispute the truth of that statement. "So, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure."

"How long have you and Malcolm been, well. . ."

"Lovers? About three years."

Trip shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I just can't see it. . .I mean, Malcolm . . ."

Charlie smiled, a tender smile. "I wouldn't have thought it either, the first time I met him. He'd just transferred to Enterprise from the Icarus. He was still barely civil to most people. I don't think he liked being back among humans."

"Back among humans?"

"Malcolm served for two years aboard the K'Ehlar, a Klingon Bird of Prey. When he finally was transferred back to a human ship, it took him a while to get used to human ways and human language. I think that's why he was transferred to Enterprise—Cap'n Archer's been good about taking in crewmen who've served on alien ships. A lot of captains of all three species are against mixed crews, and won't take on a member of their own species who served on another species, ship."

"Why was he servin' on a Klingon ship?"

Charlie sighed. "Malcolm won't talk about it much, but I know it involved inappropriate advances from a female superior officer on the Cassandra. She'd been after him for a while, and when they met up with the K'Ehlar, who was in need of another gunner, Malcolm volunteered. The Klingons, I think, were more amused than anything at the thought of a human serving on their ship, but Malcolm earned their respect."

"I did what?"

Charlie and Trip looked up to see Malcolm Reed—the Starfleet Malcolm Reed—standing by their table, a tray in hand. Hoshi Sato was right behind him. Trip waved to the other chairs at the table. "Have a seat, Malcolm, Hoshi. Charlie here was telling me about his Malcolm serving on a Klingon Bird of Prey during their war."

"A human on a Klingon ship?" Sato asked, wrinkling her nose. "How did he stand it?" She sat down and looked questioningly at Charlie, who shrugged.

"Malcolm—my Malcolm anyway—tends to think like a Klingon. 'Today is a good day to die' and all that. From what I'm told, he did even before he joined the K'Ehlar's crew. As for the smell and all, he says you get used to it."

"So how did he earn the crew's respect?" Trip asked.

Charlie smiled as he took another sip of his tea. "Malcolm's human rank of Lieutenant Commander was higher than most of the Klingons on the ship, with the exception of the captain. When the first officer was killed in battle, Captain Klachek gave the position to Malcolm. One of the Klingons challenged him for the spot, Malcolm fought him and almost killed him before the captain declared the fight over—he couldn't afford to lose two crewmen. But it showed the crew that this human was as dangerous as any Klingon."

"What human, love?"

Charlie turned around to smile at his Malcolm Reed, who was taking a sip of something steaming in a mug. He, like Charlie, was wearing the all black Alliance uniform, pants tucked into black boots, jacket neatly fastened up to his throat, rank pips gleaming on the right side of the high collar. Instead of the piping that Starfleet used on their uniforms, both men had a loop of red cording knotted on their left shoulders with the bottom of the loop sewn onto the sleeve. Malcolm had a small Klingon Empire Commander symbol on the left side of his collar, whereas Trip bore a small Vulcan Sub-Commander symbol on his. Both men were proud of the ranks they'd earned while serving on the other ships, and wore them openly. Despite being one Alliance Fleet, each species had kept their own military ranks and it was rare to award one to a member of another species. But Malcolm had served with Klingon honor on the K'Ehlar, and their Chancellor had given Malcolm the Klingon rank of Commander himself. Trip's rank of Sub-Commander in the Vulcan fleet had come from helping to get the D'kyr back to Alliance space after the incident at Seraglin Minor.

"I was telling them about you managing to serve on the K'Ehlar and not get your ass kicked by the Klingons."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't that hard." He snagged a seat from an empty nearby table and pulled it next to Charlie, sitting down. Charlie looked over into Malcolm's mug.

"Don't even think about it. It's too spicy for you," Malcolm told him with a smile that indicated this was an old conversation.

"Maybe not anymore." Charlie said with a slightly leering grin.

Malcolm blinked, then smiled. "Good point." He leaned against Charlie, who put his arm around his lover.

Sato was shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but this is weird."

"Two Malcolm Reeds and two Charles Tuckers at one table?" Reed asked.

"Well, yes, but I was referring to, well. . ." she gestured to Malcolm and Charlie, then shook her head. "Oh, never mind."

"Referring to us being lovers?" Charlie helpfully supplied.

"Yes."

"Sorry, Ensign. We can tone it down if you like." Malcolm said, straightening as Charlie removed his arm.

She shook her head. "It's all right, it's just not what I'm used to."

"Well, if it's weird for you, I'm sure it has to be downright bizarre for our Starfleet counterparts," Malcolm pointed out. "Commander Tucker is looking a bit squeamish at this."

"Well, just not used to it. No, offense, Malcolm, but I don't exactly think of you that way."

"None taken," Reed replied.

But while Ensign Sato and Commander Tucker were oblivious, both of the Alliance men had seen the brief flash of sorrow in Lieutenant Reed's eyes. They looked at each other, knowing that Reed wanted his Commander Tucker. Charlie reached for his Malcolm's hand and squeezed it tightly, thankful that he had seen what had been offered to him.

* * *

Dinner in the Captain's Mess that night was a sight the steward knew he was not going to see again. Eight people were crowded around the table, necessitating adding a leaf to it. Jonathan Archer sat at the head and the foot of the table. On one side sat Sub-Commander T'Pol, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed. On the other side sat Ensign Sato, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Commander Reed. It was going to be a confusing meal, the steward could tell. He was just thankful for the different uniforms worn by the men from the other Enterprise.

He started serving, ignoring the disturbing sound of Ensign Sato and Commander Reed speaking in Klingon. He served the two captains first, then the Sub-Commander and the Alliance Commander Tucker. Not just because they were the next highest rank, but also because they were both eating Vulcan meals—something that had floored Chef when the Alliance Commander Tucker had requested it. The steward noticed that the other two Alliance officers weren't surprised, but T'Pol raised an eyebrow and the Starfleet senior staff looked amazed. The steward finished serving and withdrew to the galley, wishing he could be a fly on the wall to hear the conversation.

* * *

Dinner had been awkward, to say the least. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed lay on his bunk, staring at the shelf above it. It was odd to sit across the table from yourself, seeing all your mannerisms reflected, your voice and accent duplicated perfectly. Put him in a Starfleet uniform and Reed would have a twin.

The worst part for Reed, though, had been the way the other Malcolm Reed had acted around the other Charles Tucker. They were lovers and they didn't care who knew it. Even their Captain Archer had seemed to accept it—he'd even teased them about their relationship with a tone of fond indulgence.

On the other hand, his Charles Tucker had seemed horrified by it, though he tried to hide it. Captain Archer and Sub-Commander T'Pol had been more restrained in their reactions.

Reed was envious of them. Envious that they were so open about a matter still mostly whispered about in Starfleet. Envious that the other Malcolm Reed got to sleep next to the body of Charles Tucker every night.

_Get over this, Malcolm_ , he thought to himself. _Trip's straight, he's not interested in you._

_No, but you're definitely interested in him._

His internal conversation was interrupted when his door chimed. "Come in," he called, getting up off the bunk to greet his visitor. He was surprised when Charlie Tucker walked in. His uniform jacket was open, revealing the white button shirt underneath.

"Commander," Reed said warily, "what can I do for you?"

"Actually, Lieutenant, I came here to apologize."

"Apologize?" Reed couldn't think of anything the Commander had done that required an apology.

"I can see that my relationship with my Malcolm is making you and your Commander Tucker uncomfortable."

_He's not my Commander Tucker. Not yet, if ever,_ Reed thought.

"I feel Commander Tucker is uncomfortable because he's pretty much straight, but I think that you're uncomfortable for a different reason."

Reed raised an eyebrow, curious as to what the man thought he knew.

Charlie sighed. "I think we're reminding you of what you want and can't have."

Malcolm took a step back, stunned. He thought he'd hidden his feelings so well, no one should have known he was pining after Trip. "How—?"

"I can see it because I know you—well, you in the form of my Malcolm. You share a lot of the same mannerisms and facial expressions. Someone else wouldn't see it, but I've been his lover for three years—he's an open book to me." Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. "Malcolm and I talked, and we're going to try to tone it down more. Neither of us wants to cause the kind of hurt that we're causing. I could tell it was hurting you tonight at dinner when Commander Tucker reacted to us negatively."

Reed sighed. "You're right. I do want him, and I know I'll probably never have him." He looked down. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Were you, well, before you and Lieutenant Commander Reed started—" Reed broke off, uncomfortable with asking the question, though he wanted to know.

"Did I enjoy men before I started dating Malcolm?" Charlie asked. Reed nodded. "They weren't my first choice—I really was a ladies' man at heart, but there was something about Malcolm that just, I don't know, drew me to him. Before I knew it, I had stopped dating women and was hanging out with Malcolm more than simple good friends would."

"He's very lucky, to have you."

Charlie shook his head. "I'm the one who's lucky. I needed him, though I didn't know it. He's helped me through some rough times, simply by being there. I wish. . .well, I wish your Commander Tucker were able to appreciate what he would have with you, Lieutenant. You seem every bit as special as my Malcolm."

Reed looked away, enjoying hearing the words, but wishing they had come from his Charles Tucker, not this one who had given his heart to another Malcolm Reed.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm." Charlie turned to leave.

"Charlie," Reed called out, stopping the other man. "Apology accepted, and tell your Malcolm that if he ever breaks your heart, I'll find a way to get to your universe and make his life hell."

Charlie grinned. "I'll tell him that." The man left, running into the other Charles Tucker in the hallway. Charlie nodded at Trip, and continued on his way. Trip stared after him, then at Reed's door. What was Charlie doing in his Malcolm's quarters this late at night?

Trip hit the door chime and then the release when Reed bid him enter. The Brit looked surprised to see the engineer.

"Commander, what can I do for you?"

Trip shrugged and leaned against the inside doorframe as the door shut. "Was just passing by and saw Charlie come out. Thought I would stop by, since you were apparently still up."

Reed saw through Trip's explanation. "He wanted to apologize. He seemed to believe that his behavior with Lieutenant Commander Reed had bothered me during dinner tonight."

Trip sighed. "It is weird, isn't it? Seein' you and me actin' like lovers, but it's not us." He pushed himself away from the wall and over to the bunk, staring at the manuals stacked on the shelf above it. "You ever think about it?"

"About what?" Reed sat on the edge of his desk, watching Trip. The man seemed edgy, more so than usual.

"Bein' with another guy?"

Reed went with deflection, rather than the truth. "Haven't most men, at one point or another? Oh, they may not admit it, but they think about it."

"Right."

Silence fell on the room for a bit. "You ever thought about me? I mean that way?"

So much for deflection, Reed thought. Trip had gone straight, so to speak, for the jugular.

"Honestly? Yes."

Trip looked at him. "You're kidding."

"I don't joke about things like this, Commander."

Trip opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Reed's honesty had rendered him speechless. He swallowed, looking away. "Wow," he finally said softly. "I never knew."

Reed shrugged. "I don't broadcast my feelings or my orientation, Trip."

"So you're bisexual?" At Reed's nod, Trip started pacing the room. "You like men, the other Malcolm likes men, the other me likes men . . ." He looked up, eyes almost haunted. "Does that mean . . .?"

"That you like men?" Reed shrugged again. "I can't answer that."

"But if all three of you do—"

Reed walked forward and placed a gentle hand on Trip's arm. "I went to public school with a set of identical twins. The only way to tell Robert and David apart was by whom they were dating at the time. Robert preferred men, David preferred women. Identical twins, identical backgrounds, different sexual preferences. You and Charlie Tucker have led different lives, had different backgrounds. You might not even really have the same DNA—their Earth's history might have more or less radiation to mutate the gene."

Trip stared down at Reed's hand. "How do I find out if I am or not? I mean, I've always been attracted to girls, Malcolm."

Reed smiled. "I found out I liked men the first time Robert kissed me." His smile faded as he looked up at Trip, seeing the strange intensity in his blue eyes. Time seemed to slow down as Trip leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Reed's. The touch was electric to Reed, everything he had hoped for, dreamed of. He parted his lips under the caress, but Trip pulled back. The Southerner's face held a look of distaste mixed with relief, and Reed's dreams tumbled like a house of cards.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm, but I just didn't feel anything."

Hiding his emotions behind his usual mask, Reed merely nodded. "Well, I'd say that either I'm not the right man for you, or there is no right man for you—you're as straight as the proverbial arrow."

"Well, that's good news," Trip sighed. "I was worried, there." He gave Reed a brilliant smile. "Listen, thanks for helping me out. I owe you, you know. If there's anything I can do for you—"

Reed turned away, unable to accept Trip's offer. "I think I'd like it if you left now," he said softly. "Please."

Something in the tone of Reed's voice stopped Trip's chatter. He took in the rigid way Malcolm held himself, the slight tremors in the man's hands. _Oh lord,_ Trip thought. _How could I be so stupid? He was interested in me. And I . . . I used him to prove that I'm not interested in men._

"Malcolm, I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"Please, Commander, just go."

Trip turned and walked to the door. He paused before opening it. "I really am sorry, Malcolm." He opened the door and left. Reed sank to his knees, feeling as if his heart was trying to claw its way out of his chest. It was one thing to suspect Trip would never return his feelings, it was another to _know_ for sure. That kiss had been the kiss of death to Reed's fantasies.

Choking back a small sob, Reed got to his feet and headed out the door. He need to talk to someone, and hoped he'd find a sympathetic ear in Charlie and his Malcolm.

* * *

Alliance Captain Jonathan Archer was composing a log entry on a data padd from his shuttle when his door chimed. "Come in," he called, curious as to who was seeking him out. He was surprised when a very agitated Starfleet Malcolm Reed walked in. The Lieutenant stopped when he saw the captain.

"I'm sorry, sir, I thought this was Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Commander Reed's quarters."

Jon set down the data padd. "It's supposed to be. I traded with them—they wanted the bigger bed," he said with a knowing smile. The other man didn't smile back. "Is there something I can help you with, Lieutenant?"

"No, I'm sorry to bother you, sir." He turned and headed for the door.

"Lieutenant, wait, please," Jon called. The man stopped but didn't turn around. "I know you don't know me, but it's pretty obvious that something's upset you. If you want to talk, well, you don't have to face me on the bridge in the morning so it might be easier than another crewmember."

Reed finally turned around. "Can I ask you something, sir?"

"Certainly, but don't call me 'Sir'. I'm not your commanding officer, I'm just Jon." He had a feeling his offer of informality wouldn't be accepted.

"You don't seem to be bothered by Charlie and Malcolm's relationship."

Jon sighed. "I think, Lieutenant, that you might want to sit down for this story." He gestured to the desk chair before taking a seat on the bed. "Charlie and I have been friends for years, long before the incident at Seraglin Minor. Charlie's got a good heart, so the war was hard on him—he'd rather tinker with his engines than have to use them to kill people. Not to say he hadn't done it, and done it well—survival is a powerful motivator. But Seraglin Minor was hell, pure and simple."

"May I ask what happened?"

Jon ran a hand through his hair. "Charlie was serving on a Vulcan starship at the time. They'd just put the first Warp Seven engine into service, and humans wanted a chance to see how it worked. So Charlie was sent with them. A Suliban cadre captured the D'kyr at Seraglin Minor. They tortured the crew before forcing them to watch as they killed the captain and dismembered her body."

"T'Pol."

Jon nodded. "Charlie ended up having to take command of the ship and get her back to Alliance space. The rest of the crew was having a hard time reconciling logic with the Suliban actions. Quite frankly, I'm not sure how Charlie did it—the Suliban had injected him with that damn virus and it was wreaking havoc with his heart. Charlie wasn't the same afterwards for both reasons. That's why I made sure he was posted to my ship. I wanted to be around for him, because I knew there would be problems and I knew he would never get help for the emotional ones. At least I understood why he preferred to hide away in the engine room most of the shift, and why he never went on away missions to apparently dead Suliban vessels."

"But his relationship with Lieutenant Commander Reed?"

"You know my Malcolm Reed served on a Klingon vessel, right?" At Malcolm's nod, Jon continued. "He was posted to the Icarus after he left the K'Ehlar. Captain Randall had problems with Malcolm and wanted him off his ship. Enterprise was the closest, so we took him in. He spoke more Klingon than English, and he still acted very much the warrior. I sometimes wonder if he looked down on us for being human. I know I was worried about how he would react to Charlie's demons from Seraglin Minor—most Klingons thought nothing of the Suliban actions there, and Malcolm was practically more Klingon than a Klingon."

Jon ran a hand over his face. "Anyway, during his first week on board, Charlie had a nightmare about Seraglin Minor. We'd all gotten used to the screams, but Malcolm thought we were being attacked. I got to Charlie's quarters about a minute after Malcolm did, worried about what might happen. Charlie's nightmares often sent him into cardiac arrest, so someone always tried to be there, just in case." Jon smiled in remembrance. "I found Malcolm holding Charlie while he cried. Charlie's pain got through Malcolm's warrior shell. I don't know what it is about the two of them—but they need each other. Malcolm's helped Charlie move past Seraglin Minor, and Charlie keeps Malcolm human. Not only that, but they really do love each other. It took them a while to notice it, but they do."

Jon shifted forward on the bed and shrugged. "I've had crew transfer because they couldn't handle being on the same ship as them, but I've also refused to let the Alliance separate them. Malcolm is a brilliant tactician and will make a great captain one day, but he needs to transfer to do so, and he refuses to leave Charlie. Not that I blame him, I think it would kill Charlie if Malcolm left. I know no other captain wanted Charlie once the truth about his condition was known, so transferring together isn't really an option. So I've pulled a lot of strings to keep them on Enterprise. I wish they would just get married so the Alliance would leave them be. The Council won't separate married service members. Not only that, but I want to perform the ceremony as Captain of the ship," he added with a grin. It faded when Reed didn't smile back. Jon stayed silent, waiting for the Starfleet officer to speak.

Reed sighed. "Ever since I came aboard ship, there has been a male crewmember I've been interested in. As far as I knew, he was straight. Seeing the Commander and the Lieutenant Commander together as a couple apparently bothered him, and he came to my quarters to talk. He was worried that since Charlie liked men, it meant he did, too."

"What happened?" Jon knew Reed was talking about Trip Tucker, even if the man didn't want to say the name.

"He kissed me, and didn't feel a damn thing. To me it was the culmination of months of longing, and to him it was probably nothing more earth-shattering than giving his mother a kiss on the cheek." Reed sighed. "I asked him to leave, because I couldn't take it. He apologized, but. . ." a shrug ended the sentence. "I knew I shouldn't have fallen for him. I'll probably have to leave Enterprise to keep things from being awkward between us."

"Talk to him, Malcolm," Jon said softly, "I'm sure the two of you can get back to your professional relationship. When Reed shook his head, Jon had a strange sense of dj vu from the early days of Charlie and Malcolm's relationship, when Malcolm had come to him late one night, unsettled by his attraction to Charlie and worried that he would be taking advantage of the man in his emotional state. That's when Jon had known that Malcolm loved Charlie—when he was more worried about Charlie than himself. Hell, Malcolm had offered to transfer off Enterprise if his interest in Charlie was going to be a problem.

Jon looked at the man sitting across from him—so like his friend and yet not. This man was probably just as dangerous, yet his warrior's soul hadn't been hardened by two years on a Bird of Prey. He wondered how this Malcolm would have reacted to Charlie's nightmares.

"I can't," Reed said softly. "I just . . . can't. I wish that kiss had never happened. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes."

"Unrequited love is better than being shot down?" At Reed 's nod, Jon sighed. "Right, at least then there is always hope, so you don't have to look at that person every day and know they don't want you the way you want them. Know that they love someone else and it's something you can't interfere with, because their lover is a friend."

Reed tilted his head, staring at the man sitting on the bed. "You're in love with one of them, aren't you?"

Jon considered that. "Love? I don't know. Want or at least lust might be a better term. To be honest, my Malcolm caught my interest when he first walked onto my ship—warrior attitude and all. Hell, he was damn sexy even when he was looking at us like we were all weaklings." Jon looked down at his hands. "But he loves Charlie—I know that, and I know that Charlie loves him. So, I sit back and do nothing. I won't interfere with them. I'm happy they have each other—they need each other, they're good for each other."

"But you can't help but wonder what it would be like?"

Jon nodded and Reed sighed. "Sounds like we're in the same position—both wanting men we can't have."

Silence fell in the cabin. Eventually, Reed stood up. "I should go. It's late."

Jon stood as well. "I hope I was able to help you, Lieutenant."

Reed gave the older man a small smile. "It helped to talk, thank you."

"Same here, Lieutenant."

Reed looked up, and was startled by the sad look in the captain's eyes. The man looked almost. . .lost. Then again, he was in a completely different universe—not even on his own ship, faced with seeing duplicates of people he might not ever see again. People who didn't understand his past, what he had been through. The only two who did understand were involved with each other, making this Jonathan Archer a third wheel.

"I . . . I don't have to go, if you want to . . .talk more." The look in the gray eyes and the tone of voice seemed to imply that the talking would be done between the sheets of Jon's bunk.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. I don't think you want to be used as a substitute for someone you're not."

"I'm offering to be a friend, Jon. Nothing more."

"Seems like you're offering more to me."

"I'm offering to see where the night leads." Reed was surprised to find he meant it—he would be perfectly happy just sitting here and talking, unless Jon wanted more. Jon's sense of loneliness called to Reed. In addition, he knew Jon wouldn't play around with him and his heart.

Jon reached out and squeezed Reed 's shoulder. "I appreciate it, but you're hurting from tonight, and I can't take advantage of that."

"You're hurting too," Reed said softly. "You're in a strange place, not sure if you're going to get home, and the other two who understand have each other to turn to, leaving you alone." He stepped closer. "Is it wrong for either of us to want to forget our problems for a while?"

Jon swallowed, seeing the genuine interest in the gray eyes. "Yes, it is," he said hoarsely, before leaning down and capturing Reed 's lips with his own, feeling the man respond instantly, opening to him. He pulled Reed to him with the hand on his shoulder and used the other to cup the younger man's jaw, holding him in place for a thorough kiss. They both were breathing heavily when Jon finally let go.

"Stay?" Jon asked quietly.

"Yes." Reed responded.

* * *

Charlie shifted in the bunk, wanting to turn onto his side, but he couldn't. He was being held down by over 150 pounds of sleeping tactical officer. Not that he minded. After spending three days in a biobed in sickbay, with only limited visits from his mate, he welcomed the heavy warmth of his lover.

Malcolm lay on top of Charlie, his arms underneath the other man's and one leg between Charlie's. His head was lying on Charlie's chest, one ear placed directly over his heart. Even in sleep, Malcolm seemingly needed reassurance that his lover was there, that the heart that was the center of Malcolm's existence was still beating, still keeping Charlie, and Malcolm, alive.

Charlie stroked the dark hair. He hadn't meant to fall for Malcolm, hadn't meant to get involved at all. He'd known that the Suliban had all but killed him, had been warned about it every time his heart stopped. He'd resigned himself to that fact, determined to put everything he had into the war effort until they eventually killed him—either through his heart or some other way. He promised to make sure any ship he served on would take out as many of the chameleon bastards as possible.

Then Jon, needing a tactical officer after theirs had transferred to be with her husband on another ship, agreed to take in the one from the Icarus. Charlie, as First Officer, had been in the ready room with Jon when Captain Randall had warned them that Lieutenant Commander Reed was a heartless and soulless bastard of a human being, not fit to be serving on a human starship. Captain Randall had been all for spacing the man out an airlock and letting the Klingons retrieve him.

At first glance, Malcolm Reed hadn't seemed like the kind of man who would impress Klingons with his warrior prowess. But he had their attitude, looking at his new commanding officers like they were something to be tolerated because of rank, but not respected. Aware of the Klingons', and probably Malcolm's, attitude toward the incident at Seraglin Minor, Charlie had stayed out of his way. Until the nightmare that always had him screaming in terror on awakening—watching T'Pol's death over and over—happened again. He'd felt his heart speed up in a way that he knew meant cardiac arrest was imminent if he couldn't calm down.

Then his door had opened and Malcolm was there, an aggressive look on his face and a Klingon mekh'leth in one hand. He swept Charlie's room with his eyes, looking for attackers, relaxing a bit when he realized that Charlie was the only other person there. Charlie had been barely aware, trying to control his racing heart and forget the terrible sight his subconscious insisted on dragging into his dreams. He was just hoping to keep his heart beating until the medical team could get there and give him a sedative.

Then he'd felt something unexpected—Malcolm's hand on his arm, accompanied by a soft "Are you all right?" When Charlie had shaken his head no, Malcolm had sat next to him on the small bunk, one hand still on Charlie's arm and the other rubbing up and down Charlie's back. The tactical officer made no protest when Charlie leaned against him, simply shifting to make it easier for the engineer. Charlie had listened to Malcolm's slower heartbeat as he cried, trying to will his heart to match the pace. To his surprise, it started to work. His heart slowing of its own accord and the remnants of his nightmare dissipating, Charlie started to fall back asleep. He vaguely remembered hearing Jon's voice in the cabin, and the rumble of Malcolm's voice in the chest under Charlie's ear. He definitely remembered waking up with Malcolm beside him in the bed, the knife within easy reaching distance on the floor. Malcolm had his back to Charlie, keeping his body between Charlie and the rest of the room. Charlie had felt safe for the first time in years.

The morning had been awkward, with Malcolm brushing off Charlie's thanks as simply doing his duty. But Charlie had been determined to thank Malcolm, and spent his off-duty hours programming the resequencer to make a few Klingon dishes. He'd positioned himself in the mess hall after it had been finished, and had the privilege of seeing a genuine smile cross the man's face when he had flipped through the menu and seen the new additions. Malcolm had turned and those intense gray eyes found Charlie instantly, and another smile was bestowed upon him.

He didn't have another nightmare for a week, instead dreaming of Malcolm's smiles. The next time one did hit, Malcolm was there again, holding him and calming down Charlie's heart with the steady beat of his own. Again, Charlie had fallen asleep with that reassuring heartbeat as a lullaby. Only this time, he'd been curled up against Malcolm's back when he woke, the other man still sound asleep.

That pattern repeated itself for the next month—Charlie would have a nightmare and Malcolm would arrive almost instantly, holding him and getting him back to a dreamless sleep. Dr. Cutler was pleased by Malcolm's ability to calm Charlie—she hated having to drug the engineer to prevent his heart from stopping. She had been afraid his body might begin to develop a tolerance to the sedatives and require higher dosages, which could cause other medical problems. Something Charlie didn't need on top of his heart condition.

About a month after that first nightmare, Malcolm had appeared at Charlie's door, overnight bag in hand and an odd expression on his face. He'd talked to the captain and Dr. Cutler about Charlie's condition, and thought maybe having someone around at night might forestall the nightmares. Malcolm had looked so embarrassed that Charlie didn't have the heart to tease him about playing protective warrior. He just told Malcolm not to take all the hot water in the shower and not to stay up too late reading the Klingon translation of Hamlet. Malcolm had laughed, a genuine sound of humor.

Charlie wrapped his arms around his sleeping love. Malcolm had moved in that night and never moved out. Everything else in their relationship had come later—the courtship, the sex, falling in love—but the feeling of being complete when around each other had solidified in that first real night together.

Closing his eyes, Charlie breathed in the scent of Malcolm and drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he would be complete for many more years.

* * *

Jon turned over in the bed and looked at the man sleeping next to him. He shouldn't have done this. He should have turned Reed down gently and sent him on his way. He should have ignored his body's demands. Because now he wanted more, more of Reed, more of sleeping next to the man and waking him up for passionate interludes.

He should have known he would fall for a man who was even more out of his reach than the Alliance Malcolm Reed. Because Jon couldn't stay in this reality, and the man he'd just made love to didn't belong in Jon's reality. This night had been, most likely, the only one he would have with him.

Kissing Reed awake, arousing the man with his hands, Jon let himself forget that this wasn't something he couldn't have. He had this moment, and this man who was driving him insane with lust.

At this moment, it was all he needed.

* * *

Charlie walked down the corridors, heading toward Jon's cabin. He wanted to invite Jon to breakfast before his appointment with Doctor Phlox. Voices in the corridor ahead made him pause, and then stop just before he turned the corner. He could see the door to Jon's cabin, but he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The Starfleet Malcolm Reed was leaving Jon's cabin, and while it could appear that he had merely stopped by a few moments before, Charlie knew that wasn't the case. Especially when Jon appeared in the doorway, his uniform barely on, and leaned out to kiss Reed. The other man blushed, nodded in response to Jon's words, and walked off. Jon stood in the cabin doorway, watching him.

"Dream come true, Cap'n?"

Jon jumped and turned to look at Charlie. "Charlie!"

"I knew you had wanted Malcolm when he came aboard Enterprise, but you were a gentleman and backed off when he and I got together. Guess it's a dream come true for you, having an available Malcolm Reed around?"

Jon looked up, and Charlie noticed the odd expression in the man's eyes. "I'm sorry, Charlie. Hell, we knew it was wrong but we did it anyway. I guess we both just needed someone. He'd come by here looking for you two, we talked, and then. . . it happened."

Charlie sighed. "It's just weird, you know? I just left Malcolm in our quarters and then here's another coming out of your room. I know it's not my Malcolm, yet—"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Charlie tilted his head. He didn't like what he saw on his friend's face. "You can't do it, Jon."

"Can't what?"

"Can't fall for him. I know you, Jonathan Archer," he said when Jon started to protest. "I know how you are. I've seen you fall for more guys and girls than I can count. But you can't let yourself fall for this one, Jon, because we can't stay here. We don't belong in this universe, and their Malcolm doesn't belong in ours." Privately, Charlie thought it might be too late for the warning.

"Malcolm is going to kill me, huh?" Jon changed the subject.

"Which one?" Charlie accepted the change in subject gracefully.

Jon grinned. "Yours."

"Well, he might. You never know." Charlie looked down, realizing that when his Malcolm found out, it was going to be awkward, to say the least. "Uh, wanna get some breakfast with me and Mal before I'm supposed to report to the doc?"

Jon wouldn't meet Charlie's eyes. "I, ah, kinda made plans." The look on his face let Charlie know with whom he had made those plans.

"I suppose Mal will find out sooner or later. At least if we're in public, he'll have to behave himself. You know how protective he can get over the two of us."

Jon gave a weak chuckle. "There is that."

* * *

Jon and Reed were at a table when Charlie and Malcolm entered. From across the mess hall Malcolm noticed the way the two men were looking at each other and he stopped. "Oh my God," he murmured.

"Yeah, I know, Mal."

"He's—he's—" Malcolm was speechless.

"I know."

"Well, now I know what Trip feels like, watching us. I'd never thought of the captain in that light, but Reed apparently does. And Good Lord, what does the captain—"

'"The captain was always attracted to you, Mal. He just acted like a gentleman 'cause he knew that we loved each other."

Malcolm looked across the room. He couldn't deal with that knowledge just yet, so he reverted to his warrior persona. "He may look like me, but if he hurts the Captain I'll wipe the floor with him."

Charlie laughed and wrapped an arm around his mate. "That's my Malcolm. Now, let's go join them."

* * *

"Sub-Commander."

The Vulcan rank, spoken in the Vulcan language, caused Charlie to turn around. Sub-Commander T'Pol was approaching him, carrying a padd.

"What can I do for you, Sub-Commander?" Charlie replied in Vulcan.

"I want to ask you about the sensor data from your shuttlepod."

"What do you need to know?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, finding it interesting that Charlie not only spoke fluent Vulcan, but he resisted the urge to use human colloquialisms in the language. Commander Trip Tucker would have used the Vulcan term for "shoot", most likely. It was also interesting that Charlie's accent was less strong than Trip Tucker's—the slurred "Cap'n" was the same, but Charlie spoke more precisely. T'Pol surmised it was a combination of his relationship with Lieutenant Commander Reed and his mastery of the Vulcan language.

"May I ask where you learned Vulcan?" she asked, genuinely intrigued, as she and Charlie continued walking down the corridor toward the launch bay.

"I learned some while I was in training in San Francisco, but most of it came from while I was on board the D'kyr. I decided if I was going to serve on a Vulcan ship, I should at least learn their language."

"Many humans would not feel that way."

"Which is why many humans do not serve on Vulcan ships." Charlie gave her a slight smile, one which turned reflective. "Captain T'Pol did not believe I would be an asset to her crew, but I think I caused her to revise her expectations."

"You were close?"

Charlie tilted his head. "We were friends. We respected each other's areas of expertise and enjoyed debating various elements of our societies with each other." He looked away from T'Pol, staring at nothing. "Her death was hard to fathom, even though I was there when it happened. She died with Vulcan honor, at least, maintaining her logic until the end." Charlie turned back to T'Pol. "I realize that you are not her, yet I am pleased that in this universe, you are still alive. It might be illogical, but. . ."

T'Pol nodded, understanding that the existence of another T'Pol helped him come to terms with losing the one he had called friend.

Charlie nodded in return and changed the subject. "You found something in the sensor logs?"

"Yes. You were scanning three planets, looking for radiation levels and signs of returning life. I wished to know what happened to those planets in your universe."

They had reached the launch bay, and Charlie opened the Falcon's hatch. "The Suliban developed a weapon that was virtually undetectable to sensors, but could kill the population of an entire planet in a matter of days, and leave the surface of the planet so saturated with radiation that it would be uninhabitable for years." Charlie sighed as he looked into the distance. "Maybe decades. The Vulcan Science Directorate has not been able to get an accurate scan of the surface of the planets to be able to extrapolate the dissipation rate."

T'Pol looked thoughtful. "I have managed to isolate the wormhole's signature from both our scans of the area and your ship's scans. I believe it may be possible to re-create the conditions that led to the appearance. However, I cannot guarantee that you would be returning to your own universe."

Charlie tapped a finger on the side of the pod. "To be honest, Sub-Commander, we need to return to our own universe. Our Enterprise will be wondering what happened to us, and the fact that we disappeared close to the ruined planets could lead some of the more aggressive members of the Alliance to suspect an attack by the Suliban and their allies. If the Vulcans don't keep them calm, they could very well start another war." Charlie looked pained. "I'm not sure the Alliance can handle that right now."

T'Pol nodded. "I understand. I would not suggest taking such a course of action without further study, but I wanted to let you know what I had found."

Charlie nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate your honesty."

"Do you need assistance working on the Falcon?"

"It would be welcome," Charlie said with a smile. "It has been a long time since I worked with a Vulcan. I have missed their logic."

T'Pol nodded her head in acknowledgement of the statement. She, too, missed the logic of her peers. While Charlie might be human, he understood her culture better than most. It would be agreeable to work with him.

* * *

Porthos was more than a little confused. The poor beagle kept looking from one man to the other, trying to figure out why there were two Dads. The men smelled almost the same. They sounded the same. And both would scritch his ears or his belly when he approached them.

Porthos sighed, settling onto his cushion. He wasn't sure which Dad to beg for cheese from. More important, he wasn't sure which Dad would actually give him cheese.

* * *

"Cute dog. Too bad I couldn't have one on my ship. Not exactly a good place for a pet, when you've got Suliban and Andorians trying to kill you on a regular basis."

Jonathan Archer smiled at his counterpart. "There were people who thought I shouldn't bring Porthos along, but I didn't have the heart to leave him behind for five years. Long time to ask someone to dog-sit."

The Alliance Jonathan Archer laughed. "True." He shifted on the couch. "You have a fine crew, Captain."

"Thanks. They're the finest Starfleet has trained." A shadow passed over the other man's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry—when my Enterprise launched it was said we had the finest human crew in the Alliance fleet. Of those original 85, we lost 70 during the war. Including. . . including my lover." Jon ran a hand over his face. "Losing so many people isn't easy, Captain, and I hope to God you never have to know what it feels like."

Archer nodded. He was curious about the life his counterpart had led, wondering if they had shared the same dreams that led them to Starfleet. However, seeing the pain the memories caused, he didn't want to bring it up. Instead, he changed the topic. "T'Pol tells me that she may have found a way to recreate the wormhole conditions that brought you here."

The other man accepted the change in topic gratefully. "Will this get us back to our universe?"

"She's still trying to ensure that," Archer said as Porthos jumped into Jon's lap. Jon began petting the dog, smiling as Porthos preened under his touch. "Apparently, your first officer had the same concern. He said that your disappearance could provoke a war."

"He's probably right. If the Alliance thinks the Suliban or the Andorians were involved, it could set off the Human contingent. I know it will set off the Klingons—and not just because Alliance officers went missing. Some of the Klingons still consider Malcolm to be their warrior, not ours. The disappearance of Commander Reed will be seen as an attack on their honor."

"And the Vulcans?"

"Hard to say. Most will probably counsel patience and investigation, rather than jumping to conclusions. With Charlie being a Sub-Commander, though, there might be a few who come to a less logical conclusion."

Archer nodded. "We'd better make sure we get you back, and soon."

Giving a final pat to Porthos, who jumped down to see the Starfleet captain, Jon stood. "If you don't mind, Captain, I'm going to go see how Charlie and T'Pol are coming with the repairs to the Falcon, and see if I can lend a hand."

Archer stood as well. "I don't mind at all, Captain. If you need anything, I'll be on the bridge."

* * *

The two Malcolm Reeds were in the gym, sparring. The lieutenant had walked in while the commander was working out on the weights, and when the lieutenant had begun going through a self-defense routine, the commander offered to partner Reed.

"Is now a good time to tell you that if you hurt my captain, I will kill you?" the commander asked as he neatly ducked a high kick from the lieutenant.

"Only if now is a good time to tell you that if you hurt Charlie, I will find a way to make your life hell, wormholes be damned," the lieutenant replied. He ducked and rolled under a punch, kicking out a leg and using his momentum to hook his foot around the commander's ankle, taking the man down.

The commander grunted as he hit the mat. The lieutenant quickly got to his feet, but didn't press his advantage. Instead, he moved back, still in a defensive posture, waiting for Malcolm to pick himself up.

"Charlie and I live in the same universe."

Reed nodded. "I know. I know that whatever Jon and I had last night was all we will ever have."

The commander sat up, resting his forearms on his knees and looking up at his virtual twin. "What happened to your Commander Tucker?"

Reed sat down heavily on the mat. "That's a sordid tale."

Gray eyes met gray eyes, and the flash of pain couldn't be hidden. "What happened?"

The lieutenant looked away. "He saw Charlie leaving my quarters last night."

"So?"

Still not looking at the commander, Malcolm recounted the events in his quarters that led him to seek out someone to talk to, and resulted in his sharing the Alliance captain's bed.

Malcolm let out a string of Klingon invectives, calling down Klingon curses and illnesses upon the dishonorable man. Though he might appear similar to his Charlie on the outside, this Starfleet Commander Tucker was not worthy of his name, much less his rank, playing with Reed's feelings like that.

"Shall I kill him for you?"

Reed looked up, startled. "What?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Shall I kill him for you? He knew of your interest, and used it to prove to himself that he wasn't interested in any man, much less yourself. He has dishonored you. That is conduct unbecoming an officer, whether that officer is Human, Klingon, or Vulcan."

A small smile crossed the other man's lips. "Unfortunately, if you kill him, we'd have to dispose of the body." Reed's eyes looked past his companion. "Though I'm sure Chef could use some fresh meat . . ." he mused.

"There are ways of making it look like an accident, as well. Working on the airlock, something goes wrong and the outer doors open, such a tragedy."

"Wouldn't that be a dishonorable action by the killer, though? Not meeting an enemy face to face?"

Malcolm smiled broadly. "We shall make a Klingon of you yet, my brother! How is your Commander Tucker in hand to hand combat?"

The lieutenant titled his head. "Fairly decent, but I don't think he would be able to beat a Klingon trained warrior."

"Shall I challenge him for your honor?"

Reed hesitated. "As much as I would like to say yes, I do have to work with him."

The commander nodded in understanding. "Well, perhaps I could just glare at him?"

Reed laughed and Malcolm smiled. Jon's loving attention had helped to heal some of the hurt caused by Trip Tucker, but knowing that he had a friend on his side would help as well.

The doors to the gym opened and both men's heads whipped around to face the newcomers. Jonathan Archer and Charlie Tucker entered, their black uniforms looking a little worse for the wear after arguing with the shuttle pod. Charlie's eyes lit up at seeing his mate, and Malcolm smiled broadly in return, once again grateful to Doctor Phlox for healing this beautiful man who kept him whole. He also thanked the Human, Klingon, and Vulcan deities that his Charlie was not the same as this Trip Tucker.

A slow, private, smile had crossed Jon's face at seeing Reed, and out of the corner of his eye, the Alliance tactical officer saw the expression mirrored on Reed's face.

Both men had stood, and as he leaned into Charlie's embrace, Malcolm realized there would be hearts broken in both crews when the Alliance men went home. And there was nothing the Klingon warrior could do except hope that Reed had other friends like himself and Charlie on this Enterprise to help him through it.

* * *

Trip declined the invitation to eat with Captain Archer for lunch, claiming he had work to do in Engineering. The truth was, he was afraid Malcolm Reed would be there, and he wasn't sure of the reaction he would get from the Armory Officer. Trip had sent another apology to Malcolm's console. He didn't know if it had been read or not.

_What the hell possessed you to do that?_ he asked himself again as he ate in his quarters. He'd seen the look in Malcolm's eyes when he saw Charlie and his Malcolm together. Trip had originally thought it was surprise or distaste. However, last night he'd realized what it was—sorrow. Sorrow that he couldn't have what he wanted—Trip.

_Stupid idiot,_ he thought to himself. _He -told- you he was interested in you, and what do you do? You're so caught up in your homophobia that you use him to prove that you're straight. Probably would have been less painful to use a phase pistol set on kill on him. You're damn lucky he didn't report you for sexual harassment with that kiss._ The last thing Trip had wanted to do was hurt his friend. Hell, Trip hated to hurt anyone, but he'd jumped in without thinking, as usual, and shot it all to hell. As usual.

Trip stared down at his plate, its near-untouched state an indication of how badly he still felt about his actions the previous night. Captain Archer teased him mercilessly about his appetite on good days, but this was not one of them. He was afraid his insecurities had cost him Malcolm's friendship forever.

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"I know."

"It's going to hurt more when I go back."

Reed stopped his oral examination of Jon's navel. "It won't hurt any less."

"You'll at least have your Captain Archer for solace," Jon said bitterly.

Reed sat up, his folded legs on either side of his lover's. "Do you really think so little of me? That I would go to him?" Reed was offended. "I'd rather sleep with Doctor Phlox."

Jon looked at Reed oddly. "That's a mental image I'm not sure I needed."

"Well, I didn't need the image of me running to Captain Archer for solace."

"You came to me looking for solace."

Reed got up from the bed. "It's not the same, Jon. I've never slept with Trip. I don't know what he feels like, what he tastes like. He's never woken me up with teasing hands, never made me feel like I was more than I am by simply smiling at me. He's not my lover, Jon. You are. Trip was a fantasy, something easy to walk away from. And Captain Archer is just that—my captain. You are my reality, and someone I will always remember." He leaned down and kissed the older man. "Whether we do this tonight or not, it's still going to hurt when you leave. Not even my Captain Archer would be able to stop the hurt—because he's not _you_."

Jon reached up to trail his fingers down Malcolm's cheek. "You're _my_ Malcolm Reed," he said softly. "Charlie's Malcolm was a fantasy for me. You are a reality to me, someone I can talk to and laugh with. Someone I will miss desperately."

Malcolm stared down at his lover. He could fall in love with Jon, if he let himself. "How I wish I could come with you."

Jon smiled sadly. "How I wish I could stay."

* * *

Dr. Phlox, afraid that Charlie would over-exert himself and undo the progress he had made since the virus had been destroyed and new cardiac muscles had been generated, tracked down the three Alliance officers in the launch bay and ordered Charlie to Sickbay. Charlie had protested, but with both his captain and his mate supporting Phlox, he had no choice but to go.

Now, Charlie was asleep in the cabin he and Malcolm shared. Phlox had decided that Charlie needed more rest, and gave the commander the option of resting in Sickbay or in his quarters. Charlie decided that arguing with Phlox would be as useless as arguing with Dr. Cutler. He gave in and went back to his quarters.

His sleep was anything but restful. His long body twitched on the bed, responding to the images his subconscious mind was recalling.

**He is on the D'kyr, working on her engines with Kov, her engineer. The two are working in harmony, speaking when necessary. They have been friends since the first moment Charlie set foot in the D'kyr's engine room. __

**The alarm sounds. The engineers rush to their battle stations, struggling to remain on their feet as the ship's inertial dampeners are unable to compensate for the Suliban torpedo strikes. __

**He fires at the invading Suliban soldiers, trying to protect Kov. His friend has fallen, and Charlie can see the green liquid trickling out of the corner of Kov's mouth. Charlie can see Kov's chest fall and not rise again. /You bastards, you killed my friend!/ he thinks just before he is hit. __

The sheets tangled around Charlie's legs, trapping him in the bed. He whimpered in his sleep.

**He struggles against the straps holding him down, with no luck. The Suliban grins evilly as he approaches with a large needle. He starts to insert it into his chest, and into the heart. Charlie screams at the pain, trying to get away from the needle. He feels his heart racing as the Suliban injects him with something and withdraws the needle. __

Malcolm opened the door to their quarters and heard Charlie's whimpers. He quickly took in the sweaty sheets and drawn face as he crossed the room to lie next to his lover. "Ssh, love, it's all right, I'm here," he murmured, stroking Charlie's hair and face. He knew from experience that holding Charlie during a nightmare triggered a need to escape within Charlie's mind, and Malcolm had sported more than one bruise to prove that.

"You're safe, Charlie." The hand didn't stop stroking. "You're safe," he repeated. Charlie stopped whimpering, moving closer to Malcolm. The nightmare seemed to be dissipating, but Malcolm kept murmuring soothing words and stroking Charlie's head and back. He wanted to make sure Charlie was back into a safe and restful sleep. He hated seeing his love struggle with these memories.

Once Charlie had settled into a dreamless sleep, Malcolm could hold him tightly. Though he had never said anything to Charlie, Malcolm was in awe of him. Though Charlie seemed like a fragile good old boy sometimes, he had managed to do something no one expected him to—live. For four years, Charlie had survived with that damn virus slowly killing him, maintaining his position as Chief Engineer. The nightmares were minor, to Malcolm, when compared to the fact that other humans had seen less devastating things when captured by the Suliban and had been scarred so deeply they were practically catatonic. Some of the Vulcans had never recovered from Seraglin Minor, yet Charlie had gotten the D'kyr's crew back to Alliance space and been on Enterprise three months later, working on her engines. Determined to not let the Suliban win—either over him or over the Alliance, Charlie had vowed to fight them until he either died in battle or from their virus.

For all his Klingon bravado and innate warrior tendencies, Malcolm could only hope that he would have reacted the same way Charlie had. Malcolm smiled at the irony—his part Vulcan mate would have made a great Klingon warrior.

"I love you, Charlie Tucker," he said aloud now. Charlie sighed in his sleep. Malcolm held him close until he fell asleep himself.

* * *

Trip blinked as he saw Reed enter the mess hall with the Alliance Jonathan Archer. Malcolm was smiling, not his usual half-smirk with that irritating touch of superiority. This was a genuine smile of affection, aimed at the older man. The other Archer was smiling as well, talking and gesturing at the same time. Both men were dressed casually, Archer having left off his black uniform jacket with the gold cording. Malcolm was in black slacks and a blue shirt, one that set off his eyes. The two took seats in the row in front of Trip, next to Travis and Hoshi.

Trip watched the two men, rather than the movie. He'd seen the movie several times. It was a mystery with some romance thrown in. Watching the two men proved to be enlightening—at one point, Jon reached for Reed's hand, twining their fingers together. Reed smiled at Jon. To Trip, it was like watching Charlie and his Malcolm.

Somehow, Reed and Jon had gotten together after Trip had pulled that stunt in Reed's quarters. Trip wasn't sure how he felt about that. Although, to be honest, he was more worried about Reed. After all, Jon couldn't stay here, and Reed couldn't go to the other's world, could he?

Watching Reed with this Jon, who wasn't their captain and therefore not someone Reed would only see as a rank, not a person, Trip had his doubts. Reed just might toss his own rank and position to the wayside in order to stay with someone he truly cared for.

Trip worried at his lower lip with his teeth. While he might not want Reed the way Reed had wanted him, he didn't want to lose the man as a friend. Assuming he hadn't lost his friend already.

* * *

Archer strode onto the bridge in response to T'Pol's summons. "What's going on?"

"Another wormhole has opened, smaller than the previous one." She vacated the command chair in favor of her science station. "It does match the data we have on the one the Alliance officers came through."

Archer hit a button on his command chair. "Alliance officers report to the bridge."

Hoshi looked up. "Sir, I'm receiving a transmission." She frowned back down at her board. "I think it's coming through the wormhole."

"Let's hear it."

"Captain Archer, Commander Tucker, this is Enterprise, come in please." The voice from the wormhole was Hoshi's. "Commander Tucker, Commander Reed, can you hear us?"

The turbolift doors opened and the three Alliance officers stepped onto the bridge. The next transmission told them all they needed to know as they heard, "Captain Archer, this is Lieutenant Sato, come in please."

The Alliance captain turned to his Starfleet counterpart. "Can we respond?"

Archer nodded and turned to Hoshi, who tapped at her console for a minute. She looked up at the captains. "Try now."

The Alliance Captain stepped forward. "Lieutenant Sato, this is Captain Archer. It's good to hear your voice."

Everyone on the bridge could hear the relief in the other Hoshi's voice. "It's good to hear your voice as well, Captain. Are you and the commanders alright?"

"We're all fine, Lieutenant," Charlie replied. "You can tell Doc Cutler she can get a decent night's sleep now."

"We were found by a friendly ship whose crew has been very helpful in trying to get us back," Malcolm added.

"We've been working on that from our end, as well," Hoshi replied. "The Science Division analyzed the data you transmitted before you disappeared, and we were able to create this small wormhole. We can't make it big enough to send people through without help from where you are. And we had to make sure we got you," she said. "This was not our first try."

Charlie nodded, though he knew the woman couldn't see him. "That was the conclusion this ship's science officer had reached. Can you send us the data on how you opened this wormhole?"

"Lieutenant Rostov is transmitting the information now. He suggests the science or comm officer on your ship take readings now so you have the exact frequency needed to contact us."

Jon glanced over at T'Pol. "Doing so now, Lieutenant. How is the crew?"

"They will be a lot better once they know you're all okay, Sir."

Charlie looked up from where he had been watching the progress of the data transmission. "We've got the data, Hoshi. We'll go over it with the scientists here and then contact you guys to coordinate things, okay?"

"Understood, Commander."

Malcolm spoke up again. "Lieutenant," he said in English, before switching to a language that wasn't Klingon, but contained a lot of consonants and glottal stops. Hoshi responded in the same language. Malcolm said a few more words, and then looked to his captain.

Jon glanced at T'Pol, who nodded that she had the data she needed. "We'll be in touch soon. Archer out."

"We'll be waiting, sir. Enterprise out."

When Ensign Sato indicated the transmission had ended, Jon turned to Malcolm. "Sending secret messages, Commander?"

"Knew I should've brought my secret decoder ring," Charlie drawled out. Malcolm gave his lover an exasperated, but fond, glare.

"I was merely giving Lieutenant Sato something to play for the Klingon High Council to prove that she had actually spoken with me. You know they will want more than just her word."

Jon nodded. "True. Good thinking." He glanced over at Charlie. "So, get what you need?"

The engineer's eyes were sparkling. "Yup. The Sub-Commander and I can go over these together and work on a way to get us home. And now that we can contact our Enterprise, it will be a lot easier to coordinate." He turned to Archer. "Permission to proceed, Sir?"

Archer nodded. "Permission granted."

Jon, in the meantime, had glanced over to where Reed was sitting at his tactical station. The man's face was expressionless—unless you knew where to look. His eyes were clouded, troubled. It was a look that probably matched Jon's own. Both of them had harbored a secret hope that Jon might be able to stay. But that wasn't going to happen.

  * * * * * Charlie and Trip were working in the launch bay, recalibrating the engines. Charlie was slowly regaining color and stamina, though he was more often reducing to supervising while Trip did the actual work. 



"Damn, I can't wait until I'm back at 100% again."

Trip chuckled from his place in the back. "I can understand that." Trip paused and turned. "C'n I ask you something?"

"Sure," Charlie replied, checking off items on his padd.

"How come your doctors didn't make healing you a priority? I mean, if your war's been over for a few years, and you're the engineer on their flagship, shouldn't they have been all over you?"

Charlie sighed, setting the padd down on the bench. He ran a hand through his hair—a gesture he and Trip shared. "I asked myself that same question a lot—so did Malcolm and Dr. Cutler. 'If they can infect Commander Tucker, they can infect any number of other humans,' she would argue. 'We need to stop this now so that others aren't infected.' But I guess there's not as much prestige in healing just one person. Oh, they ran tests and asked for samples and everything, yet they never seemed really interested. Malcolm has a theory—that they preferred to autopsy a dead body and work on the tissues rather than heal a live person."

"Bastards."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, I know. I think they were just jaded, myself. Seen too much during the war—too many patients infected with weird things they couldn't cure that they just lost heart. Couldn't take getting their hopes up over this experimental cure or that one. Dr. Cutler kept up hope—but she saw me every day. She saw how my condition actually improved somewhat when Malcolm and I got together. But I know even she was seeing the end of the line for me." Trip sat there, unsure of what to say to a man who had been told he was heartbeat away from death and no one would do anything about it.

"I wish we had your Dr. Phlox in our universe—maybe I wouldn't have spent so many years wondering if I was going to survive the night or not."

"No Denobulans in your universe?"

"None that we've met." He picked up the padd again, studying it, before tossing it down again. "Look, Trip, I know we barely know each other despite looking similar, but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?"

Trip set down his tools and looked back at his counterpart, who was nervously playing with the cuff of his white uniform shirt. "Sure. What is it?"

"When we're—when we've gone back to our universe, would you keep an eye on Lieutenant Reed?"

"Because he's involved with your captain?"

Blue eyes met blue eyes. Charlie nodded. "I'm just worried. I know Jon's fallen for him, fallen badly. And I think Lieutenant Reed has fallen as well. When we leave, it will be, well, I guess worse than a partner dying—you know he's alive but you can't find him, can't get in contact with him."

"Won't know if somethin' happens to him," Trip said softly. Charlie nodded.

"Malcolm and I will keep an eye on Jon, but I don't want any harm to come to Lieutenant Reed. You know. . . you know he was interested in you at one point."

"I know. I also know I messed that up six ways to Sunday. But I'm still his friend, Charlie. I'll look out for him. I promise."

Charlie smiled. "Thank you. I know it will me a lot to him—and to Jon."

* * *

Five days of adaptations to the shuttle and to Enterprise's deflector dish were going to be tested in the morning by sending an unmanned probe over to the other Enterprise. The deflector dishes on both ships would be set to create the necessary wormhole through the universes. If all went well, the shuttle with the three Alliance officers would follow the day after.

Jon was sitting in the mess hall, looking at the padd with the details of tomorrow's tests. Briefly, he wondered about sending Charlie and Malcolm back to Enterprise with his resignation. Jon had been an engineer once upon a time, he could do it again. Hell, he'd willingly take a demotion to crewman if he could stay on Enterprise with Reed.

Looking out the window into the star field, Jon allowed himself a moment's indulgence in fantasy. One involving himself and Reed, on board this Enterprise, an acknowledged couple, sharing quarters and meals and knowing glances when Reed came to engineering or Jon had to do some work in the armory or on the bridge.

"Penny for your thoughts, Captain."

Jon started, then looked up to see Malcolm standing there, black uniform clearly marking him as Lieutenant Commander Reed.

"Just . . . indulging in a bit of useless daydreaming, Malcolm," he replied as Malcolm took a seat.

"Thinking of staying?"

Jon looked at his friend sharply. "How did you know?"

Malcolm smiled sadly. "It's what I would want to do, in your place." He looked down at the table. "Would you really do it, though?"

"Honestly, I don't know. God, how I would love to. He's, well—" Jon hesitated at talking about Reed to Malcolm.

"You're in love with him," Malcolm said softly. "And you're about to lose him, and you'd do anything to prevent that. Give up your rank, your job, even your soul to be able to stay with him, to give you more time together. Because while you were able to live before you had him, you're not sure how you can live without him."

Jon nodded, knowing that Malcolm had gone through all of that for months with Charlie's declining health. He had seen the tortured looks in the gray eyes every time Charlie ended up back in sickbay, had seen the fear and desperation that accompanied every new change in their lives to accommodate Charlie's needs. On the outside, Malcolm had been supportive, always there for Charlie, always keeping the man's spirits up with his presence and love. Inside, Charlie's slow death was killing Malcolm. He was a warrior, through and through. He was used to identifying the enemy and destroying it. Except in this situation his warrior skills had been impotent, unable to destroy that which was killing his lover.

It had been killing Jon, too, seeing Charlie deteriorating like that. But now Jon had a better idea of what Malcolm had gone through, facing the imminent departure of the man he loved from his life.

"I don't know how you did it, Malcolm."

"I love him. I need him. I'd do it all again, even if the outcome was as dire as everyone predicted."

Jon nodded. "I know I can't stay—Starfleet would probably have me back on Earth to pick my brains in a heartbeat. I still wouldn't be able to stay with him."

"Damned if you do and damned if you don't. The question is, I guess, what are you willing to go through? Will it be easier to stay in this universe and maybe not have him, or easier to go home, know you can't have him, and maybe, one day, be able to move on?"

"Seems like going home would be the coward's way out," Jon murmured.

Malcolm gave a sad smile. "No, I think it would be the warrior's way—going into a battle you know you might not ever win, but you fight because honor demands it."

"Honor sucks."

The former Klingon gunner and first officer chuckled sadly. "At times, yes, it does. But sometimes, honor is all we have to hold on to."

* * *

The crew of the Starfleet Enterprise waited with ill-concealed patience as the probe disappeared into the wormhole they had created. The wormhole also allowed them to maintain contact with the Alliance Enterprise, so they would know when the probe appeared on their side. If it appeared. The probe was also transmitting data on the wormhole back to the ship, to help Starfleet understand the phenomenon.

Reed counted off the seconds in his head, timing the travel of the probe. At two minutes and 13 seconds, Lieutenant Sato's voice came over the comm.

"'There's more than one way to kill a cat than by choking it with butter'? Commander, I know that had to be your idea of an identifying message."

"Guilty as charged, Lieutenant. You got it?" he asked unnecessarily, but needing the verbal reassurance.

"We have the probe in the launch bay, sir. Shall we send it back?"

The Alliance officers looked back over at Archer, who nodded.

"Please, Lieutenant," Jon said. "I think it would be best if we didn't contaminate either universe any more than we have to."

"Understood sir. We're launching it now." Another two minutes passed in silence, then the faint outline of the probe reappeared in the heart of the wormhole. It drifted out into open space, and at Archer's command, Reed sent the grapplers after it and reeled it into their launch bay.

Two minutes, he thought. Two minutes and then his lover would be gone, lost to him forever.

"Lieutenant, the Commanders and I will be ready to leave at this time tomorrow. Is that all right for you?"

"It will be fine, sir."

"Then we'll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant. Archer out."

"Tomorrow, sir. Enterprise out."

The comm went silent and the crew went about their normal business, the Alliance officers heading back to their ship. Reed maintained his professional demeanor on the bridge, but inside, all he could think of was those two minutes.

* * *

Tucker was about to go off duty, checking over the ship logs for the night, when he noticed something that disturbed him. The gamma shift armory officer was ill, in sickbay, and Reed was scheduled as his replacement. Tucker sighed. He didn't know if Reed was stuck because no one else volunteered, or if he was doing it to avoid the last night with his Jon. Whichever it was, Tucker wasn't going to let that happen.

He called up one of the other armory ensigns, asking him about it. The man said Reed had volunteered, which didn't surprise Trip in the least. After a few moments, the ensign—now the proud owner of Trip's alcohol rations for the week—signed off and headed for the armory to relieve Lieutenant Reed. Trip also headed for the armory, determined to make sure that Reed did not waste his last night.

"Don't do something you'll regret, Malcolm," he told the angry man. "Not being with him tonight won't make the separation any easier on you. I've been there—I know. Go to him, talk to him, just be with him. Make sure you have no regrets."

Reed glared at him and walked away. Trip sighed, knowing that advice from him was the last thing Reed probably wanted. But Trip couldn't let Reed make a mistake that would possibly eat at him for the rest of his life.

* * *

"I love you."

Reed lifted his head to look at Jon. They were lying on the Alliance officer's bed, still fully clothed except for their boots. Neither was in the mood to make love, rather wanting just to hold and be held. Neither man had said much since Reed arrived at Jon's door—until Jon broke the silence with his declaration.

"I just needed to say it. It's true. I love you and I'm going to walk away from you tomorrow even though it's going to kill me. Because I have to."

"I know," Reed said hoarsely. "It will kill me, too." He kissed Jon lightly. "I love you too."

Jon pulled Reed to him tighter. "I still wish you could come with me," he said softly.

"So do I."

* * *

Trip stood behind Reed at the tactical station. Ten minutes before, the Enterprise crews had bid each other farewell and good luck. Phlox had given Charlie a data card with instructions for Dr. Cutler and a complete history of the treatment used on him. All three Alliance officers had thanked the Denobulan profusely, almost embarrassing him. Jon, Charlie, and Malcolm had given solemn and heartfelt farewells to Archer, Trip, and Reed. Then, while Charlie and Malcolm were stowing their gear in the shuttle and Archer had been conferring with the launch bay crew, Trip had seen Jon and Reed say farewell. Nothing inappropriate, but both men looked like they were about to lose their composure until Reed finally nodded at Jon and turned and walked away. Jon watched him until he left the launch bay before turning. He caught Trip's eye, and smiled sadly.

Trip returned the smile. "I'll look out for him," he said softly. "As his friend."

"Thank you," Jon replied before he got into the shuttle, but Trip had seen the tears lurking in the green eyes.

Now, he stood behind Reed, noticing the faint tremors in the Armory Officer's hands as they danced over his console. Archer gave permission for the ASV Pod Falcon to launch, and the sensors showed it leaving Enterprise. In a few seconds, it was on the view screen, everyone on the bridge watching as it made its way through space and into the wormhole. The little craft was sucked in, and Trip gave a small prayer for a safe journey—the probe's telemetry had shown the artificially created wormhole was only marginally easier to navigate.

For two minutes absolute silence reigned on the bridge. As the two-minute mark passed, Trip gently put his hand on Reed's shoulder, having seen the man's hands clench into fists when the timer on his console turned. Reed didn't shrug it off.

At two minutes and twenty-three seconds, the comm came to life. "This is Captain Archer. We're back on Enterprise safely. Thank you for all your help in getting us home."

"You're welcome," T'Pol replied. It had been determined that she would speak for their ship, as the Alliance men did not want to confuse their shipmates with another Captain Archer responding. "Safe journey to you."

"And to you. Enterprise out."

The comm went silent. Finally, Archer spoke. "Travis, disengage the deflector dish. Now that we know our guests are safely home, I guess we can put the Enterprise back to rights and continue on our mission."

* * *

Later that night, Trip found Reed in the armory, sitting on a launcher base and staring into thin air. The blond sat on the floor and watched his friend.

"I knew it wouldn't be easy, letting him go. God, how I wanted to go with him."

Trip nodded. He'd seen Reed with the Alliance captain. The usually reserved British demeanor had slid aside. Around Jon, Reed had been more relaxed, smiling and sometimes even laughing.

Inwardly, Trip shook his head. This was a weird scene. The man whose clumsy attempt at seducing Reed had essentially started his relationship with Jon was now consoling Reed on the forced ending.

"I lied," he said softly. "I told myself I wasn't in love with him, even as I was telling him that I did love him. But I do love him. A man I will never see again. I'll never know what happens to him." He closed his eyes. "I should have gone with him."

Trip reached up and placed a gentle hand on Malcolm's knee, a reminder that he had friends on board. They stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

On another Enterprise, Captain Jonathan Archer smiled as Charlie and Malcolm gave in to the urgings of their friends and kissed again. A month after their return from the other Enterprise, the two of them had decided that it was past time for them to get married. Especially now that Charlie was cured. So, just a few hours earlier, Jon had performed the ceremony with the crew in attendance and the Vulcan and Klingon Chancellors watching via subspace.

Turning away from the crowd, Jon stared out into space. His Malcolm was out there, somewhere. Jon hoped Malcolm was happy, or at least not crying in the darkness of his quarters when he woke up, reaching for the lover he would never see again.

Something nudged Jon's leg, and he looked down. Smiling, he leaned down and lifted the beagle puppy into his arms. The dog wagged her tail and licked Jon's face.

"Hey girl, you enjoy the ceremony?"

The dog barked, and Jon laughed. "Good." He petted the puppy as he looked out into space. The window reflected Charlie and Malcolm as they made their way around the room. Jon sucked in a breath as a quirk in the lighting made it look like Malcolm was standing next to him, smiling and eyes shining with love. He buried his face in the soft furry body in his arms, telling himself that there was no use in crying over what he wouldn't have.

Penelope, sensing Jon's mood, licked his face in sympathy. The puppy, named for the wife of Odysseus who had refused to believe her husband was dead, didn't know why her daddy was always sad, especially at night, but she wanted to make him feel better. When dad smiled and gave Penny a cheese-flavored treat, the beagle knew she'd been successful once again.


End file.
